The Outside
by human-tomato
Summary: In a world of possessors, those who have unusual and even dangerous powers, and non-possessors, Dan and Phil find themselves on opposite sides of a brewing war. (Can also be found on Wattpad by Human Tomato)


_Officers Continue Search for Powerful Possessors_

It was Dan's thirteenth switch, and he was already exhausted. Though he practiced his ability often - too often, if you asked him - he could never go very far, or continue to use it for very long, without tiring. He had scars from a particularly nasty beating he'd received after collapsing in front of a fruit stand. The stolen tomatoes and apples had rolled straight out of his pockets.

He hadn't been able to take much that day, only a few strips of meat and a carrot. He knew that his friend would smile, and accept the food happily, but it still made Dan feel guilty. His friend didn't have a useful ability for this sort of thing, so he usually stayed home and did the cooking and cleaning. "Home" being the cramped basement of a house that had otherwise been demolished by the last power war.

Even if he could help, Dan wouldn't let him. He was too skinny, like the runt of a litter that didn't even get scraps. And he was more pedantic than anything, not to mention the least stolid person to walk the earth. He just wouldn't survive. Those were the reasons Dan always gave.

Dan rolled his shoulders back and sighed. He felt old. Like someone who had lived twenty years too long, and was just waiting for a bomb to do the job that nature had forgotten. Briefly, he wondered if his friend had finished his book yet, the one he'd dug out of the rubble in the house over. It was a thick one, with lots of metaphors and symbolism about corrupt governments, and Dan always pretended to be bored when he read excerpts.

The last time Dan had read a proper book, with all its pages still glued in, was back in the orphanage. He lived there with his friend until their abilities became clear, and they were knocked out of their home, the streets, and the Golden City all together. No possessors there, that's how it goes. Else there'd be chaos, and mayhem, and how unfair would it be for non-possessors, innocent babies that they are, to have to compete with the "special ones"? Better they form separate societies, and live in their own worlds.

Maybe there'd be some merchants that would stop long enough for him to take one. One about a wizard, a hobbit, a trapped girl, or even Jesus. He'd bring it home as a three-year belated birthday. For the both of them.

For the moment he focused on the food. A rock in front of his next target, specifically. An old baker that was a little blind in one eye and missing the other, who had his back turned too often to be an accident. He was kind to all the neighborhood kids, especially ones who could actually pay, and gave many of them lower prices. When he had money, Dan often chose to buy his bread, if only to clear his own conscience.

Dan took a deep breath and suddenly he was there, in front of the stand. The owner was rustling with pans underneath, and didn't notice him as he grabbed two rolls. By the time the man was upright, Dan had already switched back with the same rock, and was walking quickly away.

He wiped sweat from his brow. It was a humid day. He was sure his friend would complain about the heat later, but at least they wouldn't freeze at night. Dan sat and took a small drink of water from his flask. He'd have to fetch more water when he arrived home, and start the fire for cooking. Outside, today. And maybe he would ask to be read to, just a chapter.

It was a good day. Calm.

He remembered the newspaper from that morning, which he had seen passingly in a stall. He wasn't too concerned - after all, the article mentioned two possessors. He kept his friend's power hidden away inside that dusty room best he could. Dan only felt sorry for the unfortunate sap that would be taken into the Golden City, for God knows what purpose.

The amount of raids had been increasing in recent years. For the most part, possessors and non-possessors lived separately, and for the sake of peace ability users overlooked the occasional crime against their own. But there had been talk of entire families being murdered, with a son or daughter being carted off into the night. The world was rapidly becoming more dangerous.

Dan wiped sweat from his brow and stretched. He was too tired to do much more that day. He tried to visualize his home, preferably something his roommate wouldn't mind ending up on the street. He still cringed remembering the time that he'd accidentally switched with one of his pens. Horrifying. Maybe a dust speck...or that cobweb in the corner…

And then he was there, a grimy groundhog returned to its burrow. His roommate looked up from his book, in the same worn chair where Dan had left him, though now about three hundred pages further into the story. He put down his book and extended a hand to Dan, who took it and stood shakily.

"You pushed yourself too hard again," he noted, helping Dan into the chair. "You only just recovered from that cold."

"It was a cold, not cholera."

"Not this time maybe," Phil retorted.

Dan rolled his eyes. "You worry too much."

"You worry too _little_."

Dan smiled, and pulled out the rest of the food from his clothes. "I think you do enough worrying for the both of us, Phil."

" _Yer a wizard, Harry,_ " Phil growled, imitating the rough voice he always used for what he called the "obvious gay" characters. He always used extravagant voices, and usually knew the text well enough that it was like watching a one man play. If they lived in some other world, Phil often said, he'd be a professional book reader. Someone who could just read things aloud, for a living, to make people happy.

"Not all stories are happy," Dan would point out. "If we had a book written about us, it'd be depressing as fuck."

"Only because you act like Eeyore all the time."

"Who?"

"A donkey."

Dan glared at him, "Are you calling me an asshole, asshole?"

And then they'd go back to whatever they were doing before - Dan, usually sleeping or nursing a headache, and Phil rereading one of their five books for the nine hundredth time.

Phil reached the end of the chapter and stopped reading. "What do you think happens after this?"

"He goes to that school, fights a dog, and kicks the two headed guy's ass. The same thing that happens every time you read it."

"No, but after. In the other books. I think this one was apart of a series. That's why it doesn't have a very definite ending, because it doesn't need one. It's not meant to stop where it does."

"You think?" Dan asked.

"I just said that I do."

"I'll try looking for other installments when I go out." Dan promised, "Then we won't have to think about what happens after, we'll know."

"That'd be nice."

Dan stood from the chair and stretched, his joints popping painfully. He still felt tired from using his ability earlier, but tried not to show it. Phil would get too worried, and would make him stay home. "I'm going to go for a swim," he announced, grabbing his spare clothes from the table. "How long do you think the food will take?"

"Half an hour, maybe. I'll keep it warm for you."

"Thanks Dad." Dan blew him a kiss and waved. "See you in a few."

"Ditto."

One good thing about their house was that it was in the shade, and consequently didn't become as hot in the summer. The trees were also fun to climb and relax in, and their branches allowed Dan to practice his ability. Dan could also leave the house assured that Phil would get some, if not much, coverage from the outside if he ever became too claustrophobic.

It was also near a small stream, which was good for drinking water and bathing in. Not very deep, or fast, unless it rained. Clear water for the most part, the most dangerous inhabitant of which being small crab-like creatures.

Dan made his way down the familiar path where grass no longer grew, because what was the point when it'd all get trampled anyway? If he hadn't been so tired, he might've been able to switched with one of the rocks by the stream that he'd placed there for that very purpose. The walk was nice, anyway, and gave him some time to think.

He approached the river and saw a man sitting next to it. He seemed peaceful enough, with dark curly hair and a lean but not starved frame. Seemingly he was somewhere around Dan's age, or maybe a few years older, like Phil. The man saw him stood. He walked towards Dan and stopped a few feet away on the path.

"Hi," he said, holding out a hand for Dan to shake. "I'm Anthony. Are you Daniel?"

"How do you know?"

The man pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Dan. It was the article he had read that morning. "I'm sure you've seen this. The officers are looking for you and your friend. A few were following you in town today, as well. You're just a little faster than them, thankfully."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"My name is Anthony," he repeated. "I'm a member of a possessor group working to take down the wall from the outside. Our goal is to infiltrate and destroy the Golden City."

"Why?"

"To take revenge."

"For what?"

"Look around you, Daniel. This world is not that one. In this world, we starve. In theirs, they play. Have you ever known what it was like, to go to bed full? To not worry about your next meal, beyond whether it'll have too many calories or if you'll burn it? Have you ever had a shower? With water that runs in hot and cold temperatures so much of it that one tub could last anyone here a month?"

"I'm not interested." Dan pushed past him, dropping the article into the dirt, by Anthony stepped around him.

"How do you teleport? Is that your ability? Or is it some kind of super speed thing? Physical ability, right? Standard class."

"Psychophysical. Standard, yeah, but both my powers are. And it's not teleporting. I can switch places with any object, as long as I've seen and can picture it. It works best if I'm close by. It's kind of based on the concept that you can't destroy matter, so no matter what form the object I'm imaging has taken, I'll still appear where it is. Even if it's water and I'm suddenly in a cloud or something."

"'Both' your powers?"

"I'm a dual-possessor." Dan admitted proudly.

"Really? We have one like you at the base. He can heal and cause pain. Pretty bipolar dude, if you ask me. What's your other power?"

Dan bristled, and realized that he'd probably already said too much. It was taboo, to let things like this be too widely known. It had been so long since anyone had last asked that Dan had almost forgotten what it was like, to talk so freely about this sort of thing. "That's a secret."

"Too bad. Listen, you know what this means, right?"

"With you here, I probably can't take a bath today, so Phil's going to complain about my smell?"

"No. If you're a dual-possessor, it doesn't matter what kind of power Phil has or hasn't. They're going to come for both of you. Again and again. You won't be able to fight off officers forever, you know. Maybe once. Maybe a lucky twice. But they're going to capture Phil while you're in town, or you while he's home, and it'll be game over then."

"Phil doesn't have a power."  
"Phil Lester: single-possessor, assumed. Psychophysical ability; can alter the vision of an opponent with a single touch. Has general control over powers, assumed. Daniel Howell: single...dual-possessor, known. Psychophysical ability - "

"How do you know this?" Dan pushed Anthony and pinned him to the ground. "Phil doesn't have powers. He doesn't. The orphanage didn't even want to kick him out; he just tried to defend me, is all. He left by his own volition."

"You can't lie to me, Daniel. We've been watching you for longer than you know."

"Well, I didn't know anyone was watching us at all before today," Dan snapped.

"Come with us," Anthony pleaded, not the slightest bit intimidated, even with Dan's hands on his throat and nowhere to run. Nowhere that Dan couldn't follow. "We can keep you safe."

"And in return we fight for your bullshit cause?"

"It's ours or theirs." Anthony held his hands up in defeat, as though he couldn't care less

what Dan decided.

"I don't choose sides." Dan stood, wiping his hands on his pants. "I'm apathetic towards

everything."

"I find that hard to believe."

"But...if it'll keep Phil safe, I'll go."

"Thank God." Anthony breathed. "Can you take us back to yours?"

"I don't know," Dan answered hesitantly. "It's not far, but I'm tired. I've never tried two people…"

"I'll help." Anthony grabbed Dan's hands and closed his eyes. Dan shifted uncomfortably for a moment, but slowly began to feel a strange warmth grow where Anthony was touching him. By the time he pulled away, it was a sharp heat, which slowly spread through his body. He felt like he'd slept for a hundred years, and the prince that had woken him up had been worth the wait.

"Okay. Let's go." Dan put an arm around Anthony's waist awkwardly, not sure if it'd actually work, and imagined his small room, with the broken glass shards he hadn't cleaned up yet…

They appeared back at the house, but it was empty. Phil's book lay forgotten on the chair, face down the way Dan was always scolded for leaving it. Dan fixed it out of habit and looked around. "Maybe he's outside," he suggested, running out of the house.

"Phil?" He called, searching the trees to be sure that he hadn't climbed one. "There's someone you might want to meet! Phil!"

Anthony put a hand on Dan's shoulder and shook his head. "We're too late."

A noise came from the darkness, and startled Dan awake. It wasn't uncommon for Dan to hear sounds stemming from Anthony's room, especially as he was an insomniac that paid no mind to the people who actually wished to sleep. Still, this wasn't the usual clatter and swear. It was more of a _clashbangboom AH!_

Dan opened his eyes and stretched, peeved at Anthony for interrupting his dream. He struggled to cling to more than the smallest inkling of it, something about a field and bread and a boy named Phil, as well as a general feeling of comfort. It was one of those rare dreams that was hard to open your eyes to. Like you would live in your mind forever if it meant never having to wake up. And Anthony had ruined it.

He climbed out of his bed and pulled on a shirt. Dan walked into the hallway and saw Hannah, a bubbly blonde haired omnilingualist. She hovered outside Anthony's door, and Dan knew she was probably debating whether or not she cared enough to actually go in. He told her to go back to bed.

"Your call," she shrugged, stretching and starting back to the room she shared with Mamrie. "But be careful, or you'll wake her."

"Obviously."

Dan watched her go and knocked lightly on Anthony's door. All he heard in response was a series of shushing noises and some grunting. He rolled his eyes and stepped inside.

Anthony stood in the middle of his room, his weight almost entirely supported by a small, brown-haired boy. A small, brown-haired boy that was holding a knife to Anthony's throat and shaking like a chihuahua left out in the cold. "D-don't move!" He stammered, "Or else he gets it!"

"Gets what?" Dan asked.

"The...the death! I'll kill him, really. So don't you dare come any closer." The boy tightened his grip on Anthony. The words seemed to reassure him, as though now that he'd said them, there was no going back. "Just go back to your room and forget you saw any of this. It'll be your turn soon enough, I'm sure. You stupid rebels won't be safe out here for forever."

Dan held up his hands in mock surrender. "C'mon, man," he said monotonously, "You're going to wake her. Besides, I just wanted a glass of water. Anthony, do you have a pitcher in here somewhere?"

"On my desk," his friend said, with equal boredom. "Could you hurry up here? This thing is starting to hurt my neck.

"Do you have a glass?"

"Not in here."

"Well, that won't do." Dan left and returned with a plastic cup. He filled it with some of Anthony's water, ignoring the intruder's glare. "Who are you, anyway?" He asked. "Someone from the city, obviously. But, like, why? And who? Pourquoi and qui?"

"My name is Dean," the intruder said. "And, yeah, I'm from the city. I'm one of few elite possessors chosen to protect the innocent citizens that you would have murdered. I was sent here today to kill your leader and report back with information that will help us to take down this rebellion."

"You know, we wouldn't kill them- " Anthony started, but Dan cut him off. "So you would protect the ones that would rather see you dead? You would fight and fall for a regime that sneers at your very existence, simply because it keeps you safe? Do you even know what it's like outside the Golden City? These trash heaps that they push us into, to protect those precious "nps", they're barely even suitable to live in. Every bit of harvest goes towards that city, to build it up while we wither. Do you understand what that's like?"

"It's not so bad. We learned about it in modern history."

"A class with material chosen by the government, with teachers that work for the city."

"Dan?" Anthony half-forgotten amid the debate, spoke up. "Could you maybe do this later? I really have to pee."

"Alright," Dan shrugged and stepped forward. Dean tightened his grip on Anthony, who winced. The knife was starting to draw blood, and Dan knew Anthony would bitch about it later. As it was, he told his assailant to be careful and closed his eyes.

"I'll wait," Anthony said.

"Don't come any closer," Dean repeated.

Dan rolled his eyes and switched to a spot on the bed next to them, switching with one of the pillows on Anthony's bed. "What does this get me?" He asked. "I had to wake up, and there'll be some paperwork later, so I think that's at least a month of chores."

"I am not doing your chores for a month."

"No?" Dan shrugged, "Then perish."

Dean glared at them and pinched the skin on Anthony's arm. "I wish you guys would take this just a little bit more seriously."

"And I wish you would shut up," Anthony sneered. "One week, Dan, that's all I'll give you."

"Three weeks."

"Two."

"Fine," Dan obliged, "two weeks, but I get your dessert for one."

"My fucking - that's bullshit. Fine. Fine, take my fucking dessert." Anthony pouted. "Now save me."

"Your wish is my command," Dan bowed and spilled the water on the floor. Dean flinched, as though expecting the water to reach up and grab him, but it only spread through the carpet, underneath the boys' feet and beyond, and waited. Nothing happened, and Dean laughed. The tension released from his shoulders.

"Is that it? Your little parlor trick? What was the water supposed to do, scare -"

The rug burst into flames in a small circle that surrounded Anthony and Dean. Startled, Dean dropped his knife, and suddenly Dan was there, standing between him and Anthony. The knife lay beyond the flames, on the bed where he had sat moments before. Dean collapsed into Dan's arms. "I have no such tastes in men," Dan muttered, setting the boy gently on the ground. The flames had dissipated quickly, as soon as the moisture had left the carpet. Dan had perfected his power enough not to set the room on fire, but scorched the carpet just to spite Anthony.

This was his second power - pyrokinesis, but only when an item was wet or damp. Usually Dan carried around a small veil of water, just in case, but fires couldn't last long with just that. It had to be raining, or humid, for him to really use this ability.

There were restrictions, but with multi-possessors, such was often the case. A person with only a single ability had the opportunity to possess a particularly powerful one, such as Anthony's healing abilities, however, someone with two or three (never more than three, not in hundreds of thousands of years) generally had more limitations. Easily tired, or only useful in certain situations, or not useful whatsoever. Miel could control the temperature of her hands and how quickly her hair could grow, powers that were fairly difficult to find practical uses for.

Anthony had also passed out from the heat and smoke, and lay in a fairly stupid position on the floor, with his butt stuck high up in the air. "Some people just can't handle heat," Dan muttered, kicking his friend gently. "Hey, c'mon," he frowned, "what are we supposed to do with this guy?"

On the bed, Dean stirred. He sat up blearily, wiping his eyes and seeming, for a moment, like a completely different person than the one that had been standing before Dan only minutes before. No longer shaking, or filled with a violent purpose. Just a small teenager that had been given a responsibility that was beyond him. "Who are you?" Dean asked. "What happens to me now?"

"I'm Dan, and this idiot is Anthony." The idiot waved from the ground, and groaned. "We're members of a rebellion that seeks to destroy the tyranny of the inner city government, and end the oppression of possessors."

"Don't be so boring," Anthony sat up. "I'm a single-possessor, a healer. I can give others energy and heal any wound. Dan is a dual-possessor, he can teleport and make fires. He's a pretty intimidating dude, and rude, but honestly harmless. He's all fire and no heat."

"The fire seemed hot enough to me." Dean mumbled.

"That's because it's fire," Dan snapped. "And you -" he turned to Anthony glaring, "who said you could just tell the world about my powers? I don't care if you get killed, but I like to think that I have some purpose in this life. As for you..." He turned to Dean and shrugged. "You'll be fine. We'll lock you up, see if you can be trusted, and try to incorporate you into our group."

"I won't join you."

"Then you'll rot in prison," Dan yawned. "See if I care."

"Don't I get a trial, at least?" Dean asked, voice rising in pitch and volume. "This isn't fair. I just came on orders. I never wanted to kill anybody!"

"Hey, hey," Dan blinked, startled by this outburst. "Be quiet, or you'll -"

The door opened and Dan sighed, running a heavy hand through his hair. "Now look what you've done. You've gone and woken Louise."

Louise was an extremely powerful possessor. The strongest one Dan had ever met, certainly. A dual possessor, Louise could not only very easily use light to make illusions, she was also able to change a person's memories altogether.

The latter, Dan had quickly learned, was not an ability Louise used often. Anthony had brought him to the base (an abandoned hotel that the first members had rebuilt and repurposed) maybe a week before, and he was still reeling from the experience. Anthony was two years older than he, and had been apart of the rebellion for half his life. Dan, on the other hand, was a shaky fourteen year-old with the unfortunate habit of setting fires when he became angry.

He was also struggling with the concept, abstract and mythical as it was, that Phil was gone, possibly and probably dead, and he hadn't been able to save him. That his best friend, the one that Dan had spent years protecting, after the orphanage and everything that came after, was gone. Never to joke or laugh with Dan again. Never to annoy Dan with the questionings of someone who read and _understood_ again. Never to eat, or sleep, or be free like they had once been.

It was a game he would play with himself. A twisted game in every sense. Trying to answer the question of what he would give for Phil's life. His clothes, easy. His hands, sure. His kidney, of course, you only need one anyway. And more. His legs. His arms. His sight. His fire. His teleportation. His powers, both of them. Easy, for Phil. His hearing. His voice. He could write everything out for eternity, if it meant Phil could still be laughing. And it always ended, eventually, with that final answer. He would trade his life for Phil's.

Simple. As. That.

The painful part was, there was no one willing to make this deal with him. So he settled for the next best thing, and asked Louise to erase his memories of Phil. But she had refused. "You'll want them, someday," she'd promised, with a sad, knowing sort of smile that had annoyed Dan to no end. "You'll miss them when they're gone."

He'd asked since then, several times. Even recently, he'd miss Phil so much it hurt to even breath...and she'd still say no. And he'd hate her, and move on.

Louise was the founder of the rebellion. Not the idea, God no, but the organization. She was the first one to suggest and implement a plan to gather all outer city possessors, and conspire to take down the government as a unit. She was the dangerous one. Everyone inside the Golden City, Dan knew, assumed that it was he and Anthony that led the pack; wanted posters with their faces did nothing to dispel these rumors. But the truth was, Louise did everything. She was the brain, the brawn (at least, inside the base), and the final judge.

"Is this a new recruit?" Louise asked, analyzing Dean intently. "It's awfully late for any kind of entrance ceremony, don't you think? Well, what's your name, power? Don't be afraid to speak. I won't kill you."

"Maybe," Anthony added.

"No," Louise frowned sternly. "I won't."

"But Dan will."

"Not if Louise says not to."

"I'm Dean." Dean glanced between the three of them. "I'm not joining your rebellion."

"Then why are you here?"

"To kill me, funnily enough." Anthony scratched his neck. Of course, the knife marks were already gone, but Dan knew that the memory of them would take longer to fade. They acted nonchalant, but if Anthony were to be wounded badly enough, even he wouldn't be able to heal himself. "Came in through the window, I could barely comprehend the happenings until dear ol' Danny here saved me."

"Welc."

"Is that true?" Louise ignored the two others and focused on Dean. "Who ordered you to do so?"

"I can't say."

"Alright. What's your power."

"I can make plants grow, ma'am. But it's very taxing and I tire easily."

"And you're sure you wouldn't like to join us? We may be from the outer city, but we are far from savages." She glanced over at Dean and Dan, who were flicking each other's ears. "Well, most of us."

"I won't betray my family like that." Dean remained stubborn.

"Alright." Louise said again, and stood. "Take him downstairs. I think Tyler will be fine watching him for a few nights, until we can figure out a long term solution."

Dan helped Dean to stand, and Anthony led him away. Before Louise could leave, Dan stopped her. "What if he escapes?" He asked. "Tyler's good about keeping watch, but you know how big Anthony's mouth is. Are you sure this is safe?"

"Just trust me, Dan." She touched his forehead lightly and smiled. He felt good memories surface, ones he hadn't thought of in a long while. Swimming with Anthony, making dinner with Phil. "And get some sleep tonight. Tomorrow's going to be a long day for you."

"Is that the best you can do?"

Dan gritted his teeth. His eyes followed Miel as she sprinted across the courtyard. Her blond hair had forsaked the attempted bun and was flying wild around her face. Unbothered, she continued to run, waiting for Dan to tire so that she could strike.

Miel was Anthony's girlfriend, a girl blessed with speed. She could jump eleven feet in the air and dart like a rabbit for hours without tiring, and was the best choice for Dan when it came to practicing. It required intense concentration for him to pull moisture from the dew, the air, and turn it into heat. With Miel, he didn't switch, though it'd be hard to get her still enough that doing so would work. Instead he had to create a ring of fire, higher than eleven feet, as he'd learned the hard way, and trap her inside.

She continued to taunt him. He stood still, breath labored and heart racing, as she raced near him and jumped, flying over his shoulder, landing square behind him…

Miel shrieked and withdrew her hand. He never made the fire hot enough to burn her, of course, but it still came as a shock each time. She frowned and leaped away, allowing Anthony to quickly heal her before resuming the match. The goal of the game was to tap your opponent on the shoulder. Dan and Miel played it almost daily, and a match could last anywhere from an hour to a full day, until Louise yelled at them to get to bed. They were even opponents, after so many years of training together. At first Miel, Dan's senior, had beaten him again and again. Each time, Louise would shake her head, and tell him that he'd never get better unless he played the best.

 _"And if I beat the best?"_ He'd said, as cocky a fourteen year-old as he was an adult. _"What does that make me?"_

He charged forward, stopping a few feet before Miel. "Do you submit?" She sneered, bounding lightly on her feet. She was ready to jump, hips turned ever so slightly left, a quick getaway point. If needed, she could run to the cliff (it was all cliff, surrounding the base; cliff and a small bridge that looked like it'd kill the next fly to land on it) and make a quick turn right before it. She'd done that once before, and Dan had almost fallen to the bottom before Mamrie (stretchy arms) had caught him.

"Never." She started to jump away, but he blasted a wall of fire before her face. The flames were blue, orange, red, flickering and hot, too hot for her to run through. They seared the sky and the Earth, connecting the two with ash and heat. Within seconds, Miel was surrounded in a perfect three hundred sixty degrees, on the dot, circle. There she stood, defeated, amid the crackling fire.

"I wish you'd stop that," she complained, pouting. "It feels like it's laughing at me."

Dan stopped. Heaving gasps raked his body. Anthony sprinted over, and Dan felt his hands rest on his back, the familiar growing warmth. Anthony caught him as he fell, and laid him gently on the ground. "Look at you," he tutted, laying a cool hand on Dan's forehead. "You've gone and overdone it again. After last night, you should still be resting in bed. This power takes too much out of you."

"That's why I have to practice." Dan coughed, and his throat burned like he'd swallowed the flames he had created.

"Not every day, you idiot. You're not a volcano, you're a fucking candle. You're gonna burn out sometime if you try to keep this up. I know you want to get stronger, but strength isn't just denying weakness. It's -"

"Practice."

"Well, maybe. But mostly it's _rest_ and _understanding your limits_."

"You're not Louise, Anthony," Dan pushed him away and stood. "And, see? I feel much better already, thanks to your healing. Maybe I would be dead without you, but that's hardly worth pondering when you're here, very much alive." Anthony glared at him, and he conceded. "I won't practice fire anymore. Today."

"Dan -"

"He said fire, Padildo." Dean wrapped an arm around Anthony's shoulders. "But that doesn't mean Dan can't spar against me, right? What do you say, Mr. _I-don't-know-your-last-name_? Best two for three, the shoulder tapping game. Winner gets to walk free. And by winner, I mean me."

"Where'd Louise go?" Miel asked, glaring at the newcomer. "I thought someone was supposed to be keeping tabs on you _at all times_."

"Relax. The other blond and her sister have been following me nonstop. They sent me out here to give you guys the duty."

"You mean Mamrie and Hannah?" Anthony asked. "They aren't really sisters, you know."

"I guessed." Dean dropped his arm and stepped toward Dan. "What do you say?"

"Sure." Dan ignored Anthony's glare and shook Dean's hand. "Two for three. Believe me, you're lucky to get one."

They each took ten steps back and bowed, an old dueling formality Dan had learned from Phil years ago. As soon as Miel gave the signal, there would be utter chaos. No boundaries, and the only restrictions are your morals. As long as no one dies, it's usually okay.

The courtyard was a three mile wide field. It was dealt into several sections full of crops, and one apple patch. Whatever food survived Dan and Miel's battles was cooked and eaten during harvesting time. Usually, it wasn't much. In the plain also grew several types of wildflowers, mutations Anthony spent the better part of his life devising names for, a few small animals, and the trees were home to several species of birds as well.

In the center of it all was the base, a refashioned hotel that had once been lavish and grand, and was then less so. It was home to dozens of possessors that were free to use their abilities as they pleased, without fear of capture by city officers. Each hotel room housed up to two possessors, and were divided based on rank and seniority. Dan had been one of the first possessors rescued, and one of the most powerful still, so he had a top floor room that overlooked the courtyard.

The entire area was a raised surface that had been eroded away by bombs, time, and possessors. The bridge was the only connection to the outside world, but was nonetheless barely guarded. After all, others like Dean had come before. Fought. Stayed. Settled. And eventually drifted on their own merry way. No one had ever managed to cause any real damage.

"You know it's impossible for you to beat me out here, correct?" Dan warned, stepping into a sturdier stance. Knees bent, arms up. "Especially if I'm not using fire. I can switch with any single blade of grass out here. And you're nowhere near as fast as Miel."

Miel whooped from the sideline. "C'mon, Dan," Anthony called, "go easy on him. He's young."

"You don't know that," Dean said, standing tall. "You don't know anything."

"Ready...set...go!" Miel cheered.

Dean sprinted forward with a guttural cry, and Dan sighed. "Three feet," he muttered. "Two." He switched with a small rock, where the dust still stirred from his opponent's run, and leaned forward. He tapped a bewildered Dean on the back.

Dean frowned. "Again." He demanded, and took his stance once again.

Dan paused, waiting to see what Dean would do. This was a new opponent, with a different style of thinking and fighting than Miel. That, in itself, was exciting, fresh, though Dan was disappointed by Dean's lack of reasoning. There he was, charging again. Close enough, and so unguarded, that maybe Dan didn't even have to switch. He could just reach out and…

The grass disappeared beneath their feet. Dan startled, staring at the empty brown earth beneath him. It was only within a five meter radius, but he couldn't imagine the kind of concentration it must have taken. To control each piece of grass… "Incredible," he murmured, and really meant it.

Suddenly remembering the game, he reached behind him and grabbed Dean's arm, stopping him just before he could reach his shoulder. Dan pulled Dean to the ground and held him there. "Why don't you practice?" He demanded, surprised at the true anger he felt. "Why do none of you practice? You could all be strong, so strong? What does that city take out of you?"

"Let...me...go!" Dean gasped. "You won! You won, I'll admit!"

"Why?" Dan shouted. "You wouldn't have to be so tired. You could be useful. It wouldn't have to hurt so much. So why don't you just fucking practice?"

"Dan!" Anthony yanked him back. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He rushed to Dean and knelt beside him. "You could've broken his arm."

Dean shook him off. "Why are you even asking? Those reasons, what you said, that's why. We use our powers to protect the city when we need to. Shootings, burglaries, all the major crimes are our duty. The biggest part about us living there is to keep us under control. Make sure we don't become...you."

"So you're like sheep, then."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Why are you so sure that you are?"

Dan heard footsteps and turned. Louise ran up to them, looking concerned. "I heard shouting. What's going on?"

"Politics." Miel shoved past them. "And testosterone. What else?"

"Rest, Dan. I mean it." Anthony gave him a quick hug before jogging off to catch up with his girlfriend.

"Now that they're gone," Louise adjusted her glasses and turned to Dean. "Have you changed your mind?" Dean shook his head. "Fine. In that case, there's someone you're going to have to meet."

Dan stepped forward eagerly. "Can I come?"

Louise shook her head. "Not this time. I'm sure Troye will tell you everything you need to know after, but this is a special case."

"Fine. I guess I'll just be up in my room, then, _resting_."

Dan paced anxiously. In the next room, Anthony snored heavily. Even that guttural sound, in Dan's mind, was loveable compared to the argument he and Miel had been having earlier. About Dan, of course, because all he ever did was cause trouble. And now his stomach was twisting and burning like he'd swallowed acid, and he couldn't quite understand why. Something was off about Dean, something important.

Whatever it was, he knew Troye would learn the truth. Troye knew when someone was lying, always, and it was simultaneously the most infuriating and useful ability. Dan couldn't sneak out without Troye learning every detail about where, why, and with who. It didn't help that Troye loved to gossip, especially if it meant Dan's red carpet of shame was extended.

He heard footsteps from the fall and nearly flew to the door in his agitation. Dan pulled Troye inside his room and pressed a bill into his hand. Troye inspected it and grinned. "Is that you, God?

"No, I'm his dad."  
"But of course. Here's the tea: Dean is a city boy."

"No dip.

"Let me finish," Troye rolled his eyes. "What I meant was, Dean's a city boy through and through. It took us hours to get him to talk."

"Obviously, it's past midnight. You should be in bed by now," Dan patronized.

"I'm not a child. So you want the info or not?"

"Yes, please, dear God."

"Dean knows Phil, Dan."

Dan sighed. "That's impossible. Phil is dead, Troye. I saw his blood myself eight years ago."

"But no body."

"They do tests on possessors over there. They might've taken it for experimentation."

"He admitted to it, Dan!" Troye stressed, grabbing Dan's hand comfortingly. "I swear to God. You know he can't lie to me. Do you know what this means?"

"Phil is alive."

dan makes troye breakfast, tells everyone else to screw themselves. anthony steals eggs anyway.


End file.
